Rushing Waters
by Fuzzycat901
Summary: It's been years since the rebellion and Katniss and Peeta are happily married with two kids. What happens when the Games come back and they're bigger than ever, ready to draw in viewers by the millions! What happens when Katniss's daughter is reaped along with her brother and a mysterious boy from Katniss's past.
1. Chapter 1: Moving Forwards

The bed beside me is warm; a feeling I've been used to for over twenty years now. The sun is actually shining today, pouring through the sash curtains and breathing warm rays onto my olive toned skin. It'll be a beautiful day today. Maybe I'll take the dog out for a walk or maybe I'll teach my son how to string an arrow.

"Katniss?" Peeta rolls over, finding my hand easily and locking mine with his; a perfect match. "What the hell happened last night?"

I bite my tongue, not sure if I should hold back the words begging to roll out of my lips or if I should keep them locked up, never to be told to anyone. He rubs his forehead with his fingers, frowning in pain and moaning.

"Do you remember last night at all?" I ask him, hoping he did. It wasn't an important night, but it was one I didn't want him to forget. The full moon, the dimly lit streets as we strolled down them hand in hand, eyes looking dead ahead.

"I remember the street, Haymitch handing me a glass of scotch… oh dear God am I hung over?"

I giggle, letting my arms fall loosely over his body, squeezing my husband in a bear hug. "You are never allowed to drink again, you hear me? You didn't shut up all the way from Haymitch's to our house," I swing my legs over the side of the bed and let my toes sink into the soft carpet below me. "You were rambling about some guy named Peter and his wife Janice or something."

Peeta tries getting out of the bed too but, not as swiftly as I did. At first he has to sit up straight letting the nausea sink back down into his stomach and then, he tries to stand. Like a new born calf his knees begin to knock together and his jaw clenches and before I can climb over the bed and catch him, he's already fallen.

"Peeta!" I gasp, leaping over the puff of white duvet covers trying to contain my laughter. He's sitting on the ground with his head pressed up against the wall, looking green. "Are you okay?"

"Just, give me a moment, okay? I'll start breakfast as soon as I can."

"Peeta, you're in no mood to make breakfast. I'll make some grub for the kids and for the rest of the day, you can sleep." I half carry half drag Peeta back into bed, tucking the covers up tight around his shoulders and underneath his chin like I did with the kids when they were little.

_Tuck in your tail little duck._

The memory hits me like a tidal wave crashing onto the rocky shore of a beach. For a moment I see Prim, her blue eyes wide and terrified. In the reflection of her eyes is her killer, the man I once knew to be my best friend and my companion for all the years I spent hunting for my sister and my mother.

"Hey! Give that back!"

"No way!"

"I'm telling Mom!"

In all the years I spent married to Peeta before the kids came, I never thought of having them. Never once did I see myself as a mother, but Peeta always saw himself as a father. I didn't like the idea of losing them. When Prim died it nearly killed my mother and half of me expected to see her shrivel up into her deep dark hole and never come out but, she did. As they got older, the idea became more and more surreal of them fading away, never being a mile away from home ever again. When our daughter was born, I had no idea what to do. The idea of holding her tiny little body against mine terrified me. What if I dropped her? What if something bad happened the moment I touched her? Would everything be okay? It's silly to think that something- someone – grew inside of me for nine months and I was scared to hold it.

Our son, the second child, was a bit easier but I have to admit, I did drop him once but thank God Peeta was there to catch him or else he might have broken a bone.

I step out of our bedroom and hurriedly walk across the cedar wood landing then down the short flight of stairs leading into the kitchen. When I was sixteen, I would have killed for a house like this. But, nothing would have gotten my mother to move into something has fancy as this, she would have been horrified.

When I see my brunette daughter leaning over the coffee table, one hand cupped around her nose, blood dripping in between her fingers, and the other hand around her little brother's shirt, I instantly think of all of the ways they could have started this fight. She pulls him closer to her in one quick move and removes the hand from her nose.

"Look what you did to me you little brat!" She yells shoving her bloody palm into his face.

"Ew! You're getting blood all over the carpet," he turns away from his sister and when he sees me standing in the middle of the kitchen in my fuzzy white pajamas, he smiles. "Mom! Can you please tell her to let go?"

"And can you please tell him to give me back my bag! It has all of stuff in it!"

"Well duh, that's what a bag's for!"

"Shut up!" She slams her bloody hand back into his face.

"Enough!" I step forward, my legs moving before my brain even has a chance to process everything. I turn to my daughter, giving her the glare I oddly enough inherited from my mother. "Jordan, go clean up that nose and Phoenix, go to your room, I'll be there to talk to you in a moment."

Phoenix stomps off to his room leaving a trail of hatred in the air. Ever since they could speak, Jordan and Phoenix were always fighting. Whether it be Phoenix stole Jordan's favourite toy and now, I guess it is purses? We'll see how this plays out. Jordan seems to be having trouble with her nose, grabbing as much tissue as she can and then pressing it against her nose, tipping her head back.

"Here," I reach forwards, grabbing the tissue from her hands. She's a great deal shorter than me; she takes after Peeta that way. "Pinch the soft part of your nose and tip your head forwards, that way you'll cut off the blood flow."

She's quiet, observing her familiar surroundings, making sure her brother is nowhere to be seen. "He makes me so angry!" She mumbles from underneath the tissue. A squirt of blood drips out and down her lips.

"Don't talk right now."

"How long is this going to last?" She whines.

"If you talk, a while but if you don't talk, it'll be over soon."

Seventeen years old and she still gets into physical fights with her fourteen year old brother. I never got into any physical fights with Prim but then again, we were fighting for survival, fighting off hunger. What were my children fighting for?

District 12 is still poor, but with the Hunger Games gone, nobody is worried. Nobody fears the ill-fated Capitol, who lost control of things when the rebellion happened twenty years ago now. They teach about it in school, but I still don't think Jordan and Phoenix truly understand what role Peeta and I played in all of this. I was the girl on fire and he was the boy with the bread. What does that make our children?

"I think it's stopped now."

I take the tissue out from Jordan's nose and see that it has and a purple bruise has started to take form in its place. "Would you like to go hunting with me today?"

A part of me still belongs in the forest, hunting down wild animals and then skinning them for dinner. Peeta insists that we can buy our meat from the market, bake our own bread, but the other part of me is begging for a little taste of my old life. Hunting puts me at piece, it makes me feel as if I could scream and shout and nobody would come running, nobody would even know I was out there.

"Sure, I have nothing better to do."

This answer surprises me. Usually Jordan and her best friend with the curly red hair Penny are side by side. The day we took Penny hunting was the day we also took her to the District hospital; a broken foot and eleven stitches all because of a slip and fall from a log and into a small creek. Jordan walks away, flipping her hair at me as she goes.

"I'll put on some jeans and maybe a scarf, it's cold out today."

I look out the window to the trees slightly swaying in the wind. Everything seems quiet, a little too quiet for my liking. The Capitol has been silent for twenty years; somehow, I think that someday it'll strike back. I just don't know when.

_**I **__**know how everyone hates an A/N at the beginning of the chapter, so I'll put it at the end. Hi, I'm Siobhan. I've been on this Fanfiction site for two years now and two years ago back in 2011 (Gasp, that was a long time ago) I started writing for The Hunger Games. I stopped writing for the fandom almost a year ago; I did too many SYOT'S and I think that screwed me over. I'm not the best writer, but I try my best. I'm a screenwriter, always have been and always will be. So if my writing is lacking description, it's from the screenwriting; it's my one true love. **_

_**I really hope you'll stick with this story as I plan on updating frequently to get myself back into writing in story format. Also, don't forget to leave a review at the end of the chapter if you liked it! Try to put enthusiasm into your review instead of 'Update soon!' Two years of that and you'd get tired of it too :) So, as I sit here with a broken elbow; entertain me! Thanks for reading!**_


	2. Chapter 2: Awakening

**Chapter Two: Awakening **

* * *

The trees rustle above our heads, their branches swaying slightly in the wind. The air smells fresh, clean. I turn behind me and look to Jordan who has her own bow in her hand, arrow already strung into place. She wears thick black leather boots with a scarf that I had knitted for her this past Christmas. Concern shows on her young face but all the same, she keeps walking, looking above her at the trees and the sky.

"Be careful," I warn, stepping out of the way of a pointy stick. "Don't look up for too long, you never know what can be ahead of you."

"Mom," she's nervous, her voice is shaking and her face goes ghastly white. "Yesterday, in class, we learned more about the Hunger Games."

My stomach feels as if it's falling and falling into a pit of no return. My hands start to shake and I try to focus on what's a head of me; a blue tailed bird with its feathers ruffled to protect its skin from the cold. The bird looks at me, cocks its head and takes flight. I spot a log to my right and I sit down, patting the spot beside me for Jordan to take a seat. She wanders over slowly, looking me up and down as if I'm not the same person to her anymore.

"What's bothering you?" I ask, although I think I already know.

"District 12 is poor. We're the lowest District besides what is left of District 13. The Hunger Games ended twenty three years ago now, and some of the people are still struggling. Penny lives in a shack on the outskirts, praying that her father will recover from his heart illness and yet we live in a big house next to one of our Victors from the Hunger Games," she looks at me and raises her fingers to quote something. "'The only Victor'."

"Jordan I think there's something we need to tell you, but I think your father would like to be here for it too."

"You guys lied to me!" she spits, a wave of frustration and anger washing over her face. "You told me that we live in that house because Dad owns the bakery, and we can afford it because you also brought in game from the forest on occasion!"

"I do bring in game from the forest and your father does own the bakery."

"I know, but that's not how we live in our house, how we have money, how everybody knows who my parents are. At school yesterday, they mentioned a Mockingjay in the rebellion, and everyone instantly turned to me. The teacher gave me the most pitiful look I've ever seen and that's when she said your name. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire."

"Jordan, before you say anything else I just want you to know..." I don't get to finish my sentence before Jordan jumps up off the log not caring about the mud stains that run down the back of her jeans. She scowls at me, balls her hands up into fists and kicks the loose dirt beneath her.

"What me to know what? That you kept this a secret from me for seventeen years?"

She suddenly points her arrow towards the top of the tree and releases the string on the bow, watching as the arrow zips upwards. It comes back down with a bird, the arrow struck right through its breast. I'm silent.

"I'm your daughter, Mom. I'm the daughter of two Victors, who've won the Hunger Games twice! And you just forgot to tell me? Come on, even Penny knew!"

"I'm really sorry, I truly am."

"Well," she starts to walk off, picking up the bird as she goes. "Don't be."

Jordan deserved to know the truth, she really did. But did she truly _want _to know it? She doesn't realize that she's just going to get more questions in the answers that she wants.

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**_Don't worry, the chapters will get longer!_**


	3. Chapter 3: An Uprising

**Chapter Three: An Uprising**

* * *

She sat at his desk, tapping her nails against the cold surface as she hummed a little tune to herself. All around her, posters of past Presidents of Panem hung, smiling, looking down on her. She shivered and wrapped her pink shawl closer to her skin. Her body felt comfortable in the leather chair yet she felt _uncomfortable. _She moved a piece of her blonde hair back behind her ear and touched the little blue streak that sat in the middle of her choppy bangs.

"Rosilina!" her father burst in dressed in his usual skin tight fancy President suit with the red tie. "How is my favourite girl doing today?"

She crinkled her nose. Did he expect her to run into his arms like she had when she was five? She was twenty two, he should know better than that. Rosilina carefully got up, not to disturb her also skin tight black cocktail dress. She didn't want anybody to see her underwear.

"Hello Dad," she sighed. "What brings you here?"

Her father laughed and tossed his thick curly brown hair behind his head. "This is my office Rosilina, the real question is, what are _you _doing here? If it were anybody else I would have them executed!"

"I know," she bit her lip and turned the other way, towards the window where millions of workers outside built away under the blaring heat. "Dad, are they building the arena?"

"No," her father moved closer to her, putting an arm around her shoulder. Together they looked out the window. "Twenty five years ago was the very last Hunger Games, when Katniss Everdeen took down the Capitol."

He locked his jaw and gritted his teeth. Katniss Everedeen, the girl on fire. The President of Panem smiled. When he was done with her, she would be cooked with fire and an apple stuck in her mouth.

"I know that Dad, you never stop talking about it." Rosilina rolled her eyes.

"Well, this was wear the chariots would ride, down the centre of the aisle so all the crowd could stand in those bleachers," he pointed to a pile of metal, yet to be built. "And cheer for their favourite Tribute."

"Don't you think that's kind of harsh? That's like showing a thoroughbred to the world and then you send it to the slaughterhouse!"

Her father laughed and ruffled her hair as if she were a boy. She quickly fixed it. "No my dear Rosilina, it's like showing a prized thoroughbred champion, and then sending it to the slaughterhouse!"

Rosilina's eyes grew wide, she couldn't even comprehend what her father was saying. He moved away from her, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. "You'll learn someday my beautiful Rosilina, but today, I guess is not the day," the President turned to his two guards behind him. "Dex, make sure the microphone is ready for my speech today and Rex, make sure my suit is ready."


	4. Chapter 4: Moving On

**Chapter Four: Moving On**

* * *

Rosilina watched in horror from her place behind the stage as her father marched up the big steps, his heavy black boots thundering against the wood. She wanted to cover her ears, curl her lips back and shout curse words at her father, but she knew she couldn't, not with the two arm guards standing behind her. They had lived in the Capitol for as long as she could remember. Her Grandmother used to tell her stories of bombs going off in the middle of the night, sirens, shouts and screams as loved ones crashed to the floor with a bullet in their head.

"The Rebels," her Grandmother would utter in a single breath. "Killed my family."

Rosilina, just a young child, tilted her head forward and let the mess of blonde hair fall over her Grandmother. She remembered how they both cried, her Grandmother sobbing and Rosilina silent, waiting for everything to be over. She was too young to understand why the Rebels had slaughtered many, why they took down the Capitol and why there was never another Hunger Games. It wasn't until Elementary school when they taught her about 'the great Hunger Games of the past' that she understood why her family had been slaughtered.

"Attention ladies and gentlemen!" her father yelled through the microphone and instantly a squeaky noise of the wires rubbing together could be heard. Everybody covered their ears except for Rosilina. It was a better sound than her father's deep voice. "I have called upon you today, to settle some rumours and some news," he looked directly in the camera lens. "For the Districts of Panem. The rumours are true, we are building another arena for the new and improved Hunger Games!"

The deafening roars of happiness sounded like a herd of elephants. This time, Rosilina covered her ears and looked out from behind the stage. Women, men, and children were all screaming of happiness, some even crying from how happy they were. Rosilina's heart pounded in her chest as if she could slowly feel it cracking in two. These children that were screaming from happiness, had never even seen one Hunger Game in their lives. Did they even know what it was? Something in Rosilina's body was pulling her one way, like a magnet trying to attract her to the way life was, and the other thing pulling her was something else, trying to pull her towards the way life should be.

"The reapings will start in a matter of days, there will be twenty four Tributes as per usual except for the twist, I will get to choose two of the Tributes going in and trust me, you'll want to see how this one plays out." The President said with a sly smile, waving at the crowd before stepping down off of the stage. The President wanted to hug his daughter, celebrate the good reaction of the Capitol over a fancy dinner. But when he stepped down off the stage, Rosilina was gone, nowhere to be seen. He turned to his guard Dex and in a fury of anger he spat on his suit.

"Where is Rosilina?"

"She took off running sir," Dex said in a confident tone of voice. "There was nothing we could do to stop her."

The President let go of his best guard's suit and shook out the wrinkles. "It's fine, I'm sorry Dex."

Back in the President's office Rosilina rummaged through his drawers, pulling out pens, paper, classified files anything she could get her hands on she ripped from the desk. Her tan skin emitted sweat that dripped down her fancy blouse. She was looking for something in particular, something important. She was just about to give up, clean up the mess before her father could find it but something caught her eye, a piece of paper sticking out from behind a bulletin board. She rolled her eyes; her father was a strange man. She pulled out the piece of paper and smiled, it was just what she was looking for.

Without thinking twice she turned out the door and ran, never looking back.

* * *

_**Ooo where is Rosilina going? What is she going to do? **_


	5. Chapter 5: The Game

**Chapter Five: The Game**

* * *

A piercing scream fills the air, making me drop the dead bird in my hand. It's coming from the District Square. My feet stand on forest ground but one step and I'm on the hard gravel of the District 12 streets. I start to run, faster than my tired wobbly legs would take me on any other normal day. I'm fit for my age, but everybody's knees get older. The broken houses and cloudy sky go past me in a blur and the yellow dandelions that stick out of people's lawns look like watercolours on a painting.

People stare at me from the side of the road, shaking their heads in dismay. Whenever there was trouble I always came running; just a bad habit from the Games I guess. I'm expecting a bleeding wound, a broken bone, a little kid just fell over, but, nothing could prepare me for what I saw. A lady was walking towards me, eyes locked on her target piercing my soul like dark blue daggers. She looked like any normal lady, until she turned her head and I saw the blue streak in her messy bangs. I skid to a halt churning up gravel beneath my feet, some getting in my shoes. I open my mouth to say something; she's only inches away from me now. But instead, I turn the other way and run.

I don't look behind me but I can hear the gravel picking up beneath her feet, flying behind her as she takes off after me. My heart pounds as I slide into a back alley in a baseball like way, the sharp shards of gravel getting stuck into the skin on my shins. I grit my teeth, ignoring the burning sensation. I allow a glance behind me at the lady who's gained rapidly on my tail now. She's a good twenty years younger than I am but her hallowed out cheekbones tell me she's seen a lot in her twenty years of life, but how so? She's from the Capitol, what pain would she know?

The house that Peeta and I moved into when we first started back up in District 12 is a Victor house, surrounded by the forest and this very back alleyway that I'm running in right now. All of the houses have tail chain link fences to the alleyway, but Peeta and I tore it down when we first moved in. Nothing could hurt us anymore than it already had, so we built a white picket fence instead. It's a few feet away from me, I can see it shimmering with its new coat of white paint in the sun. I zone in everything I have into this one action; jumping over the fence. I'm just about ready to tuck my knees up and give it all I have when a hand grabs the collar of my shirt, and I'm falling to the ground and before I know it, I'm gasping for air.

"So," the lady says, standing over top of me. "You're Katniss Everdeen," she smiles slyly. "The girl on fire."

"Peeta!" I scream, finally getting the words to say it. I see a light flick on in the bedroom, and then it goes out again. I lay my head back down on the gravel, giving up. This lady has already got me and pinned me like her prey. She's in control, I'm not.

"I don't think he's coming."

She sticks out her hand, wanting me to take it. I look at it suspiciously, then raise an eyebrow. "What's this?"

"Katniss, I didn't come here to hurt you, I came here to warn you." She grabs my hand and pulls me up with all of her strength. She tries brushing off the gravel and powdered dirt from my clothing but I quickly slap her hand away.

"And what did you come here to warn me about? How do I know you're not some Capitol freak here to take me back to that hell hold?"

"My name is Rosilina Corazón, and I'm the new game maker for this years Hunger Games."

* * *

_**Plot twist! Don't worry, the Reaping's are coming up next! The chapters will also be way longer, so also, don't worry about that haha. Sorry for the delay on the update, my old laptop I was using the screen was about to fall off (in a result of me dropping it) so I had to go get a new one. Next update will be very soon! **_


	6. Chapter 6: Run

**Chapter Six: Run.**

* * *

Terror:

Extreme fear.

Extreme fear that pulses through your blood and into your heart with a burning passion to run. Run for you life, run until the cows come home; whatever that means. I spring off the couch, the fuzzy blanket wrapped around my ankles tripping me so I fall flat on my face. I shake it off, pick myself up and keep running. Dodging the screen door, jumping the three porch steps, and my knees shaking as they land. My mind leaps and soars into the air, grabbing the shoulders of my mother with invisible hands before my body physically can. The white picket fence is easy to clear, I've done it many times before.

There was a time when I was shorter and younger where I couldn't jump the fence, and it was a great dare. Penny and I had just spent the weekend together, high off of the pure thought and feeling and friendship. I remember her little red pigtails bobbing up and down as she tried her first go at jumping but skidding her heels to a halt when she chickened out. Mom says it was because I'm her daughter that I geared up, and jumped the fence. She also told me that skinning both of my knees in the process was much like Dad, always getting hurt in the slightest circumstances.

"Mom!" I gasp, clearing the fence without skinning my knees. She's already on her feet but the lady standing beside her with eyes of a stormy sky still looks at me like a snake. Mom takes my hand and pulls me close, brushes my hair away from my ear and cups her hand.

"Jordan," she whispers, her tone serious. "Get out of here, now. Run, take your brother and leave."

The lady with the blue hair cocks her head and smiles, showing her pearly white teeth. On her shirt she bears the symbol of the Capitol, embroidered into the top right corner. I take a step back, the words still registering in my mind. Who was she? Why was she here?

_Mockingjay. Mockingjay. Mockingjay._

"No!" I scream, taking a step forwards instead of a step back. The lady looks me up and down, breathing her tuna fish breath in my face. I wrinkle my nose and glance to my Mom who sighs.

"Jordan, this is Rosilina. I think it would be best if you two both came inside. We can talk there."

I glare at the Capitol woman who's smiling and charming face annoys me to bits. I want to lunge at her, claw her eyes out and watch them fall slowly to the ground. Mom puts her arm around my shoulder and guides me through the white gate of the fence and into the house. Phoenix walks into the living room the moment we walk in, eyes fixated on the electronic tablet that sits in his hands.

"Hey Mom," he says, not looking up to see that an extra person has walked in. "Where's Jordan's..." He looks up and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees the Capitol lady daintily crossing her legs on our sofa. He puts down the tablet and walks over to Mom, his muscles shaking.

"Jordan," Mom whispers still holding Phoenix close. "Go awake your father, he needs to be here for this."

There's a look in Mom's eyes that sparks something inside of me, something so powerful I can't even explain. Maybe it's the fear that there is somebody from the Capitol in my living room, let alone the District. I nod my head and my legs spring up the stairs so fast I almost trip and fall on the last three. I find Dad, sitting upright in the bed, beads of sweat dripping down his neck and his chest.

"Dad," I whisper not realizing that tears were sliding down my cheeks quickly. "Are you okay?"

"No," he breathes, moving the bed sheets slowly off of his body. "I had another..." he takes a gulp and then tries to form the words with his lips but I know he can't... he doesn't want to think about it.

"It's alright, Dad. I won't tell Mom."

My father has reoccurring nightmares that cause him to sometimes yell, curse in the middle of the night and sleepwalk throughout our house, knocking over lamps and dishes. The doctor had given him some medication and some sleeping pills to help him get through the night but, I guess they had worn off again. His body was becoming immune.

He slowly drags himself out of bed, pulling on an oversized sweatshirt and regular everyday jeans. "There's a Capitol woman in our living room."

That one sentence was all it took. Just that one tiny little sentence and my father was out of bed as if someone were holding a gun to his head. I hear him trip down the stairs before I start to walk back down myself.

"Hello, I'm Rosilina Corazon," she extends a neat and polite hand to my father's shaky one. "I'm unhappy to announce that this year I am the head game maker for the Hunger Games."

"Unhappy?" I say, walking down the stairs step by step, running my tanned olive skinned hand down the bannister. "Aren't you supposed to be _happy?_"

Rosilina averts her eyes away from my face and looks down at the shag rug below her feet. "Jordan, I'm afraid what they teach you in school is not entirely true."

"Yes it is," my mother speaks up, sitting down on the couch opposite Rosilina. "The Capitol is a murderous city where good children go to die."

"And if it weren't for the good people that saved you from that second arena Katniss you wouldn't be alive today!" Rosilina hisses and my mother backs down instantly, knowing that she cannot win this fight. My brain begins to turn and turn as I step onto the landing and look at everybody's terrified faces. My brother, my poor innocent brother of just fourteen years of age has not learned about the Hunger Games yet. It isn't until you turn seventeen you get the pleasure of knowing how children fought to the death, ripping each others throats and guts out.

"My father is the new president, and unfortunately, he has brought back the Hunger Games."

"Why are you here, Rosilina?" My father asks while squeezing my mother's hand tightly as if this was the end of all of us.

"The Tributes of District twelve have already been picked and, unfortunately, their names are Jordan Mellark and Phoenix Mellark."

* * *

"Oh Jordan! You look simply smashing in that outfit!" Effie claps her hands together and I swear I can hear her pink long nails click together.

"Yeah, yeah, looks won't matter when you're in the arena," Haymitch takes a swig of his bottle letting a few drops of brown liquid drip down his blonde stubble.

"Haymitch," Mom growls at him then turning back to give me her best smile. "You look great honey."

I smooth down my baby blue dress with the little white bow around my waist and fix my waved hair. I've never done my hair for school or anywhere else. I've simply woken up, brushed it, and then went on my way with life. I wish I could say the same for Penny who can spend hours straightening her hair for fun. Beside me Phoenix is wearing a suit and tie with a little bit of mud on his dress shoes. My throat tightens as the thought of having to kill my own brother to survive comes upon me again. I try not to look at him most days.

"Come on you two, we're going to be late for the District 1 Reaping's." Haymitch and my mother guide us out of the train car, slowly stepping on the rough terrain of District 1. All around us, people glare and stare and some even hoot and holler.

"Remember," Mom bends down to whisper in my ear. "Some of these kids have been training all of their life, so be careful."

It was announced that Phoenix and I along with our mother would be standing on the stage at every Reaping's, taking in our opponents one step at a time. The President said it would be a chance of a lifetime, and possibly, our last chance to help us survive. Effie isn't District 1's escort I soon find out once we step up onto the stage and a big muscular man with bleached yellow hair is at the microphone announcing our names. The crowd before us cheers and some even wave little District 1 flags. These people act like this is a national holiday. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Mom fiddling with her hands and eyes fixated on something in the crowd.

"Hey Mom, are you okay?" I whisper behind me.

"Yes," she breathes. "I just found... somebody that I know."

I look in the direction her eyes are pointed and see a rather tall looking man with seam grey eyes and brown hair staring back at her, the same facial expression she is giving him. "You know him?" I ask putting an eyebrow up in question.

"And now, our District 1 Tributes!" the man on stage yells as he starts with the girls' bowl first. "Verity Floyd!"

A stunning beautiful girl with bleach blonde hair and sea blue eyes clears her way through the crowd and by the lack of people who Volunteer for her I can tell she's more intimidating than she looks. Beauty can play many tricks on you.

"And now for our male Tribute!" the escort digs into the male bowl. "Ridge Hawthorne!"

"NO!" The mysterious man my mother was staring at screams and practically tears down the rope that separates him from his identical looking son. A boy about my age or a year older steps out of the crowd his pale skin much like his father's. He doesn't look back at his screaming father who has now been detained by peacekeepers. Ridge joins Verity on stage and takes her hand and together they do a rather large bow. The man is still screaming, crying for his son.

"Katniss!" he yells, still struggling with the guards. "Do something! For my son! Please! Do it!" my mother doesn't answer, remains strong and stiff. It's as if she is staring right through the man and seeing into his very soul. "Do it for Prim!"

Just like a whip brings attention to a horse, that name turned my mother's full attention onto the man, seething daggers through her eyes. "I'll try," she whispers as tears cascade down her cheeks. "I love you Gale."

Silence overcomes the crowd as my Mom's words are broadcasted on live television. District 1 down, ten more to go.

* * *

_**Wow guys! Sorry that took me so long to write! I wanted to make sure it was as interesting as possible and don't worry, the next chapter will be! Please review! **_


	7. Chapter 7: Sibling Love

**Chapter Seven: Sibling Love**

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They've marched us around like farm animals at a local rodeo, showing off our sad faces and sunken cheekbones. Between train rides and District Reaping's, none of us have had time to be alone. Mom spends most of her nights talking to me, giving me tips about the Games. She spends her days talking with Haymitch and every once in a while I'll catch her wandering our part of the train car with a bottle of alcohol in her hand. Phoenix and I have made a special spot in the train, at least a temporary place we can call home. The back of the train car provides some sort of lounge, a safe and comfy environment to put your feet up and watch the scenery go by.

"This stinks," Phoenix spits, putting his smelly feet up on the small but elegant coffee table. "I wanted to spend my life living a happy life, you know, running around the forest, hunting wild animals with my bow and arrows…"

I throw a pillow at his face, causing him to glare at me with his stormy blue eyes. "Shut it," I grunt, rolling over onto my side to look away from him. "That's my life! Stop imitating me!"

"Who knows, you might encounter a Jabberjay in the arena, you've got to be prepared sis." He runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair and looks out the window.

"The only prepared I want to be doing is analyzing these other Tributes." I say, leaning forward on the coffee with my elbows pressed against the mahogany, staring up at the TV screen that sits on the little piece of wall in the room. It's flashing all of the Tribute's faces, the ones that we have so far, that is. Only one stop left; District 11.

"I like the girl from District 4 and the boy from District 6." Phoenix adds.

I roll my eyes and scoff. "The girl from 4 is a lying self centered female dog who will cheat her way through the Games just to win. The boy from District 6 obviously lacks anger management skills and to be honest I'm not a fan of the scar above his left eyebrow; it gives me the creeps."

Phoenix clucks his tongue and shakes his head. "My poor, poor sister. Judging people before she gets to know them."

"Alright," I say, sitting upright and tucking my knees to my chest. "What makes you like them?"

His faces goes red and he scratches the back of his head; a sign of unconfidence. "Well, jeez, ugh… I like the girl from 4 because well… she winked at me at the Reaping's and well the guy from 6… he gave me a pat on the back…"

"You never really got to know them either!" I laugh. The door opens and Haymitch stands dead centre, his arms crossed and an unimpressed look branded across his face.

"Jordan, Phoenix," he nods to both of us. "We're here."

I look out the window and sure enough, the landscape has stopped rolling and the trees are standing at a standstill. We reluctantly get up, drag our feet across the white shag carpet no doubt made from something expensive and hop down from the train. As per usual we meet another Escort on stage, and as per usual she's wearing something extravagant. From head to toe, all that can be seen is blue. Sheer blue. I shudder at the fact that it doesn't seem like clothing, but body paint.

The crowd before us looks depressed. Faces thinned out, eyes sunken and no doubt their stomachs are grumbling. A little girl in the twelve year old section looks up at me and for a brief moment our eyes make contact, lock together as if we already had a connection. She darts her eyes away immediately after all, I guess I am considered bad luck.

"Gentleman first!" The Escort calls out into the microphone not daring to waste a precious moment of anybody's time.

"Kiko Philpes!" She calls out, her lips scraping gently across the rough surface of the microphone. A good looking boy from the eighteen year old section walks out into the aisle way, his hands in his pockets and his face looking down at the pavement. People snicker and laugh as he walks up to the stage, but he doesn't even flinch. He takes his place next to Phoenix.

I look offstage to my left and see my Mom, wrapped in a wool sweater and thick gloves slipped on her tan hands. She gives me a weak thumbs up and I smile back; this has become our routine. For some odd reason, the President wanted Phoenix and I to stand on the stage at every Reaping's, his reason I do not know. Perhaps a reason for someone interesting to Volunteer? After all, these Games are entertainment.

"Now, for the lucky girl!" she dips her hand into the girls' bowl and swishes her fingers for a few moments. Finally, one _unlucky _girl gets her named called out on the loudspeaker. "Thistle Gray!"

An alert girl steps out of the fourteen year old section and for a moment I think I see a smile form at the corners of Phoenix's mouth. She tosses her brown hair around like a shampoo commercial, but as she steps up onto the stage that precious moment is gone, lost in history.

"And here you have it folks, your very own Tributes from District 11" The Escort says, wrapping her arms around the shoulders of her very new and shiny toys.

Nobody claps.

….

"Man, I'm starving!" Phoenix says, helping himself to the gigantic turkey that sits dead atop the silver platter. Phoenix rips off a leg and plops it on his plate.

"Well," Effie daintily wipes up the remaining oil from the bird on the table. "I can see you get your manners from your mother."

My mother smiles in return, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

"What do you think of your fellow Tributes?" Haymitch looks from Phoenix to me then back to Phoenix. "I hear you like the girl from 4 and the boy from 6, is that right Phoenix?"

Phoenix opens his mouth and shows us chewed up turkey. Effie covers her mouth as if she is the one showing us the disgusting bits and pieces of dead bird.

"I think the girl can be a useful ally to us and the boy could also be too." He finishes off his sentence with a nice burp in which Mom gives him a rude glare.

"Yeah, if by useful you mean sit there and look pretty and stand there and look stupid then yeah, sure we can use them as allies!"

"Jordan," Haymitch warns. "You may want to listen to your brother on this one, he may have a point."

"What if I don't want to listen to him?" I say, looking around the table.

"That doesn't surprise me," Mom says. "But if you guys are going to stick together you may want to hear each other's opinions."

"What if I don't want to ally with Phoenix?"

Forks drop, jaws gape open and the clock ticks loudly in the background. Effie is the one with the jaw halfway to her collarbone, turkey dripping down her chin.

"You got a little…"I point to my own chin, showing Effie where it is on hers.

"Jordan Primrose Mellark!" Mom stands up, hands on the table. "The plan is for you two to stick together, it may be your only hope at survival! You are not going to screw it up Jordan, you are not! You and Phoenix have to learn to get along, or so help me I will walk into the Games and knock your heads together until you cooperate!"

Silence surrounds us as Mom's words sink in. Haymitch grunts and puts his napkin on his empty plate. "Though entertaining, I do not think that would be necessary, Katniss. I think we should emphasize the family bond in the Games, after all, we do have two other sibling duos, and I'm pretty sure one of them is not going for the bonding aspect." He turns to me and motions the slitting of his throat.

"Excuse me, I'm full." Mom practically throws her napkin at Haymitch and he sighs as it lands on his chest. He gets up and follows Mom as if he knows he has to or else something crazy might happen; Dad does it too.

"I'll be right back," I say as I too leave the table.

"Jordan!" I hear Effie call behind me as the door closes shut and the humming of the engines can be heard underneath my feet. Down the hallway a door is cracked open emitting a little stream of light my way. I sneak down the wall, my back pressed flat up against it and my heart pounding in my chest. Sobs can be heard from the door and then Haymitch's low reassuring tone of voice.

"I just… I don't want them to die Haymitch, they're my kids…" Mom's voice cracks on the last word and more sobs escape her fragile lips.

"You and Peeta did the best you could, you knew this day would come." I can picture Haymitch rubbing her back, cradling her in his arms as if she were his daughter.

"Haymitch… we've got to find a way to break them out, we have to! I can't have both of them die, and I can't have one of them arrive with their heart still beating and the other one lying in the box."

"We've got Rosilina, when we get to the Capitol I'll see if I can dig up any other old friends and see if they're into the plan too."

"Where would we go?" Mom asks, the sobbing stopping. "Where would _they _go? We can't take them to District 13, that'll be too obvious!"

"I think I have an idea. But it involves Ridge, and I know you may not be up for that."

A deafening silence overcomes the hallway and the room and for a moment I'm scared that they'll be able to hear the pounding of my heart.

"Whatever it takes." Mom whispers and that's when a sudden pain creep its way up my neck and to the top of my head. I fall to the floor, screaming and yelling, digging my nails into the carpet, trying to save myself. The door opens and Mom comes running, bends down and wrestles my body until I'm no longer flopping around like a dying fish. I close my eyes and I'm encased by a rough darkness that lulls me to sleep.

* * *

_**Sorry if that chapter really sucked. Interested to hear about the two other sibling duos? They're an interesting bunch :) I put up a blog on all of the Tributes, check it out at: rushingwatersfanfic . blogSpot . ca (remember to fill in the spaces). Please review! **_


	8. Chapter 8: I am Me

**Chapter Eight: I am Me.**

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I used to wake up early in the morning to watch the sunrise. I loved seeing the orange rays rise above the mountain tops, creating a hazy glow across the landscape. I had a tree I liked to sit on, I would climb all the way to the top just to see it. The problem was, I always had to have help with the climbing. My limbs didn't like to cooperate with me and every time I would get a good grip on the bark, I would slip and fall to the hard rough ground. On the day of the Reaping's, I went to the tree to watch the sunrise. I grabbed hold of the first rickety branch and pulled with all my might.

"Jordie," his voice whispered through the air, singing like a melody into my ears. "Do you want a hand?"

I looked from my position on the branch to my right foot, still touching the ground. "Sort of."

Miles walked quickly over to me and placed his hands on my hips, shoving me up towards the sky. The way his muscles moved against my body sent off electric currents through my blood as if I were electrocuted. He climbed up next to me and together, we watched the sun rise beyond the mountains. We sat there in silence, neither one of us having the courage to say what needed to be said.

"Do you remember how we met?" Miles said quickly carefully avoiding eye contact with me. The memory of how I met him comes flooding back to me that instant. The blood. The tears. The mocking. Everything. A boy with patchy brown hair and an awkward smile on his face, offering me his skinny arm. The way his green eyes shone in the sunlight, and I knew right then he wasn't from District 12.

"Of course I do," I sneered. "I fell from the tree in the school yard, kind of like how you met me the second time."

"You're such a clutz," he shoved me gently and I pretended to lose my balance. "But that's just the way you are."

"Can you watch out for my parents for me, when my brother and I are gone?" The words tumbled out of my mouth. I didn't mean to say them, I just had. Looking back on that fateful day, I wish I hadn't said it. I wish I had never said goodbye to one of my best friend. Miles only nodded, thinking the same thing I was.

I was going to die. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"If I win," I quickly said, feeling the dry scratchiness of my throat. "I'll make sure you're okay, that you can pay off your home and quit working in the mines."

He looked me in the eyes for the last time, the sun rise shining behind his head. "Jordan, I wish we had more time."

"More time for what? Swimming in the pond with Penny? Running in and out of the woods? Skipping school on a hot summers day? What could we have possibly done that we hadn't..."

Just like that, Miles sprung from the tree and landed on his feet like a cat. I gulped, knowing that there would be nobody to help me down. "Maybe I'll see you later, Jordan," he swallowed; he was never good with goodbyes. "Maybe."

* * *

"What are you staring at, punk?"

Nara Helbig, the little fifteen year old girl from District 3 stamps her foot practically on mine and stares up at me with her large green eyes. To me, she resembles a sort of sloth like creature with the attitude of a tiger. She's dressed from head to toe as some sort of electronic switchboard and her short pixie cut is tangled in loose wires of all colours. It's been a day since we've gotten off the train, a day since I blacked out and started twitching excessively on the floor. I try to push it out of my head, but the same word comes back each time: why.

Nara looks me up and down in my cliché coal miners outfit with soot caked across my face. I have a bright orange hard hat bobby pinned to the left side of my head and tight fitting overalls on my body. My boobs are pushed up practically to my chin and when I look over at Phoenix, I see he's having the same problem with the tightness of our outfit. I stare back at Nara, not sure what to say. In fact, nothing comes out.

"I'll tell you what I'm staring at," she moves closer to me. "You're ugly face!"

"Nara!" her District partner who has a few years on her yells sharply at her to get back over to their chariot. "We have to go!"

Nara stamps her foot yet again. "But Hunter! I don't want to!" She reluctantly drags her black socked feet across the marble floor and heaves herself up onto her chariot. The other Tributes glare at us, eyes rolling up and down our bodies and then turning away. The costumes of the Districts begin to blend together and mesh into one big blob, but a few stand out:

District 4's Tributes are dressed as giant salmon, and the girl that Phoenix has his eye on is picking little bits of food from between her teeth; classy.

District 5's Tributes are light switches; both of them look unimpressed.

District 10 is matched to dress their calm white horses and District 11 is dressed as tiny seeds, as if they were going to be planed in the dirt.

_Wave. Do what they expect. Do what they want._

"Do what they want," I whisper into Phoenix's ear just as our horses begin to lurch forwards and our chariot rolls smoothly out from underneath the closed off entrance and into the open of roaring Capitol citizens. I feel naked, exposed to the Earth as we wave, laugh, hold hands, and even blow kisses. Well, Phoenix does. All around me, flashes of camera explode in my face into millions of colours and fireworks. I'm still waving when the chariot comes to a complete halt. I fall forwards just barely catching myself on the gold painted railing in front of me. Or maybe it's real gold.

Phoenix nudges me in the side and just as I go to give him the glare, I look up and see the President towering over us on his rather large and oversized balcony. In the middle is the seal of the Capitol mounted in gold. He steps up to the microphone and the crowd cheers in delight. I quickly glance over to my right and see a little boy sitting on his father's shoulders, holding the Capitol flag and waving it, a smile stretched widely across his face.

"Welcome, welcome," President Corazon smiles and shows us his pearly white teeth but on the jumbo-tron, I can see that his left front tooth is gold. "To this years Hunger Games! The rebirth of a new era!"

More applause from the crowd, more silent grunts and moans from the Tributes. Two chariots ahead the District 10 girl is picking at her bra, itching to get out of her hideous horse costume.

"We hope you enjoy the Games this year, it'll be a real special one!" I can almost feel his dark brown eyes glaring down upon me, seething with hatred and burning passion all at once. "Happy Hunger Games."

That's how it ends. That one sentence, and fireworks ignite, the crowd cheers louder and the horses rear and stamp their feet. Phoenix hangs onto the gold bar in front of us for support, but I rest my hand on his, reassuring him that this will be over soon. Then, that's when it happens. That's when somebody does it.

"Hey! Where's the fire?" Somebody shouts from the audience making everybody's heads turn. Then, they start to chant and the worst part is, they don't stop. They keep shouting, they keep yelling, and they keep _wanting. _

_What would Mom do? _

Ridge, the boy from District 1 that my mother claims to know raises his fist up into the air and begins to chant with the Capitol. My chest swells with anger and I find my fingers curling up into fists. All eyes are on me, all eyes are watching, and all I want to do is close them and wait until the storm passes and the waves roll onto the shore with new life. A new beginning. Rebirth, just like President Corazon said. I turn to the audience, hold my arms up high in the air and silence overcomes the crowd.

"I have no fire." My voice is small and I don't think my message gets across to many people but the crowd in the front hears and they gasp, telling their friends in the back. It's like one big giant game of Capitol telephone.

"No fire?" the President laughs playing with his small goatee. "Why on Earth do you have no fire?"

"Because," I stutter, trying to think of a good explanation other then my stylist screwed up and didn't give the Capitol what they wanted. "I am not my mother, I am not the girl on fire."

"Then who are you?" The same voice who started the chants belts out, louder than me. This time, I clear my throat and look to Phoenix for inspiration, but he merely just shrugs his shoulders.

"I am Jordan Mellark, I am the girl from District 12." I stare at Corazon who has stepped out from his podium and walked away. The chariots begin to lurch forwards just as the crowd begins to murmur and mumble about what they had just heard. I am not the girl on fire, I am not any girl. I am an ordinary girl from District 12 who had the short straw in life. Is it just too hard to accept that I am a normal girl trying to fight for my life?

The chariots stop underneath the overhang again and before I even have both feet on the ground, I'm greeted by my mother who wraps her arms around me in a warm hug. This gesture surprises me as Mom is never the first one to give anybody a hug, not even Phoenix.

"Nice save Shortie," Haymitch walks up from behind her and rips the horrible miners hard hat off of me. He chucks it at my stylist who is shaking in his tall and long black boots. "What the hell were you thinking?" Haymitch advances him in an alcoholic rage. "No fire? What were you trying to do? Get us all killed?"

"Haymitch!" Mom growls pulling him back towards the group with her eyes glaring with hate. "I think we need to have a little talk."

* * *

"District 1 male, Ridge Hawthorne,"

Haymitch points to the picture of the brown haired boy with the bushy eyebrows on the screen. All of sit in the living room of our tiny Capitol room, the heat from the fireplace springing out from behind the gates and warming up our cold skin. I snuggle up to Mom for comfort, but I can feel her inching away slightly; something she's always done.

"Ridge has a connection to your mother, her father... was a friend of all of ours during the Rebellion,"

"Then what happened?" Phoenix asks, looking from Mom to Haymitch.

Mom looks up but I know she's seeing right through our eyes. "There was a bomb, there was my sister, and then there was a grave."

An awkward silence fills the room. I've heard stories of Aunt Prim, but I've never heard Mom talk about it that way before in fact, I've never heard her talk about it at all, Dad's always the one telling the stories.

"That pretty much sums it up," Haymitch continues. "Being from District 1, normally he would have had an advantage of being trained but, since the Games have been gone for quite some time, I doubt he will have much experience."

"Gale's his father, he'll know something about hand to hand combat and hunting, I don't know what else." Mom's gaze still doesn't meet ours. The flames from the fireplace have her attention now.

"What about the other Tributes? What are ones to look out for?"

Haymitch flips to the next slide and shows us a picture of each Tribute, but the ones he warns us the most about is the boy from District 2, Kronos Kentwell; Rowena Rivers, District 4, and the sibling duo from District 9.

"Be careful," he stops it on the slide of Kirby Sanchez. "She's small and she's young, but she's dangerous." Her bright blue eyes stare back at me, and I can't help but feel that they look somewhat familiar to me.

"I'll say, hot!" Phoenix rolls his tongue like a cat and Mom reaches over and slaps him on the back of the head, her eyes still looking into the flames, her face expressionless like a zombie.

"You start training first thing tomorrow morning, get a good sleep." Haymitch downs his bottle of scotch and pours the remaining drops into the fire and just like that, the room is dark.

"Mom?" Phoenix whispers once Haymitch has left. "I'm scared."

And for the first time in a long time, Mom reaches over around us and pulls us both into her lap, letting us sob until we can no longer keep our eyelids open. I let the warmth of her body and the steady beating of her heart lull me into a soft and peaceful sleep. I dream of flowers, District 12, the picture of my Aunt Prim and Miles, all in the meadow just a few yards away from where the sun rises by my favourite tree.

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_**Sorry that took me forever to update! I'll update again soon I promise! Anyways, please review as normal! Next chapter is training and you know what that means... All of your Tributes are shown! :) **_


	9. Chapter 9: Training Day

**Chapter Nine: Training Day.**

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The Capitol won't see us today. We woke up at five, rushed into our bathrooms for our hair and makeup to be done and our training outfits zipped onto our bodies. Mom isn't allowed in and to be honest I feel empty without her, not that she's the most adoring person I still would like her by my side. It's odd to think she's gone through this before; got all dolled up to die in a game she never did die in. To think that I overheard her say when I was little:

_"Peeta, would it have been better to die in the Games then to live on to see what we have become?"_

Of course, I didn't understand. Games were Monopoly and Twister to me, they never meant anything else.

"Breathe," Haymitch whispers into my ear, I can feel the stubble from his beard. "When we hit the ground floor, you'll be preyed on, eyed out by some of the kids who may want to see you dead."

Beside me in the elevator Phoenix takes a sharp breath in. "What about me?" he asks, looking up at Haymitch. "Am I going to get preyed on too?"

Haymitch tilts his head back and forth weighing out the possibilities that Phoenix has. "I guess," he shrugs. "If you're anything like your father you're going to want to stay out of everybody's way, in case you get tossed around."

I chuckle. Phoenix has never been one to 'stay clear'. He's always interfering, knocking over my paints, tracking mud into the house... never clean. The elevator hits the ground floor and just as Phoenix opens his mouth to say something, we are speechless by our surroundings. Weapons, climbing ropes, camouflage area, you name it, it's here. Haymitch pats us on the back.

"Have fun!" He laughs before he departs, walking off through a door marked 'mentors'. I can imagine my mother is in that room, watching over us through a hidden camera on a discreet angle. The Capitol is always watching.

"Where should we start?" Phoenix rubs his hands together, looking off into different directions. Not all of the Tributes have arrived and I can't see the ones that Haymitch told us to stay clear of. I'm brought back to the day of the Reaping's with Miles; the sunrise, the warm feeling, but also, the struggle to climb a tree. I look at the climbing ropes and then back at Phoenix.

"I'm going to go practice some climbing," I nod at the ropes and the fake trees. "I'll see you later."

Just like that Phoenix and I walk our separate ways. We've always been able to walk away easily from each other, hide in our bedrooms or simply turn on the television. We went a whole week without talking to each other once, Mom and Dad were speechless. A knot turns and turns in my stomach, unable to loosen itself. If it's this easy to walk away from my little brother now, will it be easy to walk away from his dead body?

I approach the climbing section of the room cautiously. From afar, it looked as if a jungle of ropes were sprouting from the ground as ceiling, swinging back and forth with the cool air conditioning. I stop before a rope in front of me, waiting for somebody to grab hold and climb. I gulp and look over my shoulder to see if anybody is watching me. Nobody is there. The boy from 6 is busying himself at the knife station while I catch the girl from 5 out of the corner of my eye at the fire building station, with evidently, my brother.

I tighten my hands around the rope in front of me and just as I am about to pull, something swings down in front of me and collides into my chest, knocking me to the ground. I hit my head on the soft mat below, cursing underneath my breath. The body who landed on top of me rolls off moaning and groaning.

"Watch it!" I spit before I can speak. The body turns around and smiles at me; the girl from 3. I back up, remembering our encounter at the chariots last night.

"Well, well," Nara clucks her tongue. "It's the nobody from District 12," I know she means this as a back handed insult; I practically called myself a nobody last night in front of millions of people. "Having fun yet?"

I leap to my feet still clutching my stomach from the hard blow that nearly knocked the wind out of me. "Loads, what about you?"

Nara shrugs as if we were having a normal conversation. "My partner ditched me and went to the camouflage section," her eyes flash to mine. "Where's your partner? I mean, your brother?"

"I don't know, off doing his own thing I guess." I grab hold of the rope in front of me again, but this time when I try to pull up, I slip and fall onto my ass. Nara chuckles and surprisingly grabs the rope in front of me instead.

"You have to hold it like a baseball bat that way when you pull you'll have a steady grip for the whole way up," she demonstrates by holding it like she said to, and heaving her skinny body up onto the rope, legs dangling and all. "See!" she calls down from above. "It's not that hard." She slides back down, landing neatly on her feet. She blows the rope burn off of her hands with her lips and then wipes them on the sides of her black pants.

"Thanks," I mumble. "Should I teach you something?"

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "There isn't nothing that I don't already know, see you Nobody." She waves me off in a bitch like way and stalks off behind a climbing ladder. I've learned one thing today, now I just have to learn another. My mother always told me that learning will get me far in life and that drifting off into a dream like state would only get me an alright job at the local store, but I guess we're not talking about jobs anymore; surviving is my job. All of the Tributes are hard at work learning new skills, practicing skills that they already know and even making friends. Phoenix stands in the middle of the room on the comfy mat, chatting to the girl from 5 and the two girls from 6 and 8. I walk past them, none of them bother even looking up.

The camouflage station only has one body, and that's the boy from 3, Nara's partner. He looks up and smiles when he sees me coming. He even waves with his paint soaked hand. "Hey," he says. "I'm Hunter."

"I'm Jordan," I refuse his dirty hand. "What are you making?"

He sighs and bangs his fist down on the table. "I'm trying to make myself into a rock, but it's not working out." His hand is painted with a light silver colour and his fingertips are covered in dark green paint to resemble moss. I grab the nearest cloth and start to wipe away the green from his nails. "You won't get anywhere with the green, you don't want your enemies to think that rocks have toes, right?"

Hunter laughs and runs his clean hand through his jet black hair. "I guess I wouldn't," he pauses and watches me paint a darker grey onto his nails. "Say, you're pretty good at this, where'd you learn this from?"

"My Dad's a baker back in my District, I help him decorate the cakes for his bakery sometimes."

"Right, I remember hearing about that on the television."

My stomach drops and my heart sinks. My poor Dad, back at home in District 12 painting away his misery on a cake. "On TV?"

"They did an interview with him not too long ago, before the Reaping's in District 3 I think."

"Oh, I never saw it."

The conversation dies out there and my paint brush clatters to the table below. Hunter senses the change in the mood and bites his lip, thinking about something to say. "Have you met Nara yet?"

I laugh and snort at the same time. "Yes, I had the _privilege _of meeting her."

"She's not as bad as everyone says, it's just when she gets nervous or scared."

"When I get nervous or scared I usually cry or hide, I don't take it out on people!"

Hunter shrugs. "Everybody deals with it differently I guess."

"Attention Tributes," a voice crackles in over the loud speaker. "We'll break for lunch in five minutes, I repeat, five minutes."

I raise an eyebrow. "Lunch? That's new."

Again, Hunter shrugs and turns around like it's no big deal. "I guess they're changing things up this year."

Change was an understatement; this was madness.

* * *

_**Sorry that one was so short! I just really wanted to update because I haven't updated in so long! I'm going to write some more tonight (I promise) and maybe get it up around midnight or tomorrow morning. I really want to be on top of my writing from now on. I just didn't have time to update over the holidays with work and busy and cranky customers coming in, I was just too stressed out to even think about this site! I think the breaking point for me was when I went and saw "Frozen" by myself because nobody would go with me and there's this one really sad song in it called "Do You Want To Build a Snowman" and at the end of it, I was crying. Haha, that's what stress does to me. Anyways, review please! **_


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